Lilyisms, Marauderisms, and Everything in Between
by Thirteenth.Scepter
Summary: Poetry. Besides eyes, one of the windows to your soul. Join Lily and the Marauders in coping with their lives through Hogwarts...with the help of poetry? Welcome to a world where anything is possible...and acrostic poetry is bloody useful.


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AN: Well. Here I am again, with yet another planned collection of oneshots. Believe me, I have many that I've written a chapter or two on, but haven't published yet. I just hope this one will work – the idea seems fun.

**Note: I don't even KNOW if they had acrostic poetry in the 70s, but lets just say they did and keep it our little secret, eh? **

**Note 2: Thanks to my beta, WickedAce. :D**

**Disclaimer: -ahem- Not mine. Got it?**

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**Lily****'s POV**

My first week at Hogwarts has been amazing.

But then again, it hasn't.

I've learned so much my head hurts, and met so many new people I get confused over who's who.

Some of them were great. Take Mary Macdonald, for one. She's a sweetheart, I really do hope I can become better friends with her come the next seven years.

But then again, some of them haven't. Like James Bloody Potter and Sirius Black, the dangerously devious duo. To tell you the truth, they make me want to pull out my hair and stomp on it. They absolutely infuriate me. Mary tells me I need to let out my anger somehow. Honestly, I've thought about it. And as snarky and overprotective-motherly a comment as it seems, I'm going to listen to her.

I have a few options, really. I could write in a diary. Actually, I think I tried that once. I wrote in it once, about some boy I fancied in the third grade. A week later, it disappeared. As the wizards and witches say, only Merlin knows where in the world that diary vanished off to.

I suppose I could scream into a pillow. Or even start cutting myself. But I'd rather opt for a less ridiculously dramatic method.

Goodness, I don't think I'll ever think of a way. I'll live my life with pent up emotions, and when I finally let it all out, I'll have no friends left. Everyone will be scared to death of me, and I'll become the old lady with a thousand cats. What a morbid thought.

Speaking of morbid, I was reading the most morbid poetry the other day, by Edgar Allen Poe. He may be a Muggle, but he's a heck of a perceptive Muggle. It was depressing…it was emotional…it was…well, it was morbid.

I think that'll be my word of the day today. Morbid.

And you know what? I think I just found the perfect way to let go of my red-hot anger.

Poetry.

It's the perfect idea, except for the fact that my writing is just horrid. I can never seem to write with that magic touch other people have. There goes another idea. Excellent. Oh wait…something's coming…aha! It's another brilliant idea, thought up by the one and only Lily Evans! Do I hear applause? Thank you, thank you, I think I'll take a bow.

Anyhow, on the subject of my brilliant idea…

I'll do acrostics! Cheater poetry, in other words. Now all I have to do is get a quill. And ink…and parchment…and…

Got it! Hmm. Who should I start with? I'll have to think _very_ hard on this question.

Maybe…perhaps…James Bloody Potter?

Why yes. I think I shall.

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After a brutal ten minutes, I have made my poem, harping on Potter. It's quite wonderful, and my mood is so much cheerier.

**James Bloody Potter**

By Lily Evans

**J**uice – this, in reference to his brain, or what few cells exist of it.  
**A**rse. The best word to describe him. Potter is, quite essentially, a first-class arse.  
**M**orbid. No explanation needed.  
**E**veryday, he deprives a village somewhere out there of an idiot.  
**S**pecial Education classes. Where he really and truly belongs.

**B**oorish. He is one of the most ill-mannered boys I have ever had the misfortune to meet.  
**L**out (my Auntie calls my Uncle this a lot, it sounds rude to me…)  
**O**gles…yes…he does that often. Scarily enough, it's in my direction. I think I'm going to gag.  
**O**ff his rocker (completely.)  
**D**umb. It's plain English, people. He is d-u-m-b. Or he's just really good at playing at it.  
**Y**our (ahem, _my_) worst nightmare…

**P**ompous prat…look at my brilliant alliterations, hm?  
**O**ften has delusions of adequacy.  
**T**echnically sound (not quite,) but socially impossible.  
**T**oerag or twit, both work. 'Nuff said there.  
**E**xcellent his skill at infuriating me.  
**R**ather thick (rather or really, same difference.)

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**AN: Hm...I don't really like this first chapter at all. No flow to it. Anyhow, I hope the next few chapters are much better than this one...**

**So? Did you like it? Hate it? Think it's partially decent? Are you totally indecisive and not know?**

**Either way, a review would be just lovely.**


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